I was a sophomore at Centennial High School in Gresham, Oregon when I fell in love for the first time. The year was 1967; the Vietnam War was in full swing. The musical “Hair” was playing off Broadway. The Summer of Love was held in San Francisco. Scott was a member of the freshman class, but the year’s difference didn’t bother me. His deep brown eyes, raven black hair, and olive skin attracted me instantly. I guessed correctly that he was of greek heritage. Oh, how handsome he was!
I was stunned the first time he called me at home. Me! I thought of myself as plain, shy, and very naive. As we talked we discovered things in common like an interest in speech team. In fact, that’s how we first met. It was at a speech team meeting to prepare for the next competition at a local college campus. He seemed confident and articulate. Debate was his favorite speech event, and he excelled at it. In other words, he was a real “talker”. He described the girls who were throwing themselves at him, and I had no doubt he spoke the truth. Being from a conservative home with a grandfather who was a minister he admitted to me his struggles to maintain his moral standards with these kind of temptations. Their aggressiveness actually turned him off, but of course he would never admit this to his buddies at school. How flattering that Scott felt he could be so honest with me.
A few more phone conversations transpired before he invited me to the house he and his brother, Mark, shared. His living arrangements were unusual. Scott’s parents purchased a lot in Portland with two homes on it. His folks and little sister lived in the main house, and he and his brother lived in the small four room house next door! His parents felt the boys would grow up faster, and learn to be independent sooner if they lived separately. I came from a home with a father who controlled my every move, and did not encourage any autonomy. Scott’s living arrangements were as polar opposite from mine as possible.
One drizzly night Scott walked me half way home under his umbrella. Our homes were about two miles apart. We stopped on a corner, and he softly kissed me on the lips. My first kiss! Under an umbrella! In the rain! How romantic! I fairly skipped the rest of the way home.
Our first speech tournament Scott sat next to me on the bus for the hour ride. He slid his arm around my shoulder as we talked. I thought I would melt as he whispered in my ear, and occasionally stole a kiss. The most handsome guy on our speech team paying attention to little old me never ceased to amaze me. Scott’s attention built my self image, and made me feel worthy. But I still had a difficult time believing this was happening to me.
My best friend, Kit, on the other hand was popular with the boys. She was petite, cute, and always wore the most in-style store-bought clothes. My mother sewed most of my outfits. Kit’s mother paid for her hair to be cut and styled at a salon, while my hair was long and straight and kept very basic. We couldn’t have looked more different. No wonder she was always the center of attention. Scott often asked about Kit, and what she was up to.
Scott and I didn’t cross paths in school much because of our being a year apart. And he never took me on dates as such because he didn’t have a job. Most of the time he invited me to his bachelor pad where we “made out”. We talked less and less, and kissed and petted more and more. I didn’t particularly get anything out of the make-out sessions, but that’s what he wanted to do so I went along. My feelings of physical and emotional attraction to Scott grew.
At home I listened to the music he liked, read the books he enjoyed, and waited by the phone for his next call. I was at his beck and call, and would drop everything to go to him when he called. Our relationship gave my life meaning, and I couldn’t imagine my days without him. My parents had only a vague awareness of this relationship, and wouldn’t have been happy about it if they knew the details. For one thing, Scott's parents lived in a higher economic class which made my dad suspicious of them. Also my parents were in their 40's and Scott's were at least ten years younger, and a lot more "hip".
My best friend, Kit, and I joined the Drama club our freshman year. Scott followed suit when he entered Centennial High School as a freshman. We attended all the theater department parties. By the end of Scott’s first year of high school those parties turned into such wild gatherings that we were banned from having them at school. So the parties were taken off campus, and held in students’ homes. They were completely unsupervised activities. By “wild” I mean smoking, alcohol and drugs were present. This was the 60’s, and the rules were challenged by many. I didn’t drink or do drugs because these substances took away the ability to be in control of your behavior. Watching friends throw up, or endanger themselves physically, or become suicidal concerned me. I saw myself as the sober person who could drive drunk people home, or talk kids down from doing something crazy after taking LSD. I also continued to attend the parties because I wanted to be part of the crowd; one of the group. And I enjoyed dancing with Scott. We had Rolling Stones, Beattles, Jimi Hendrix, and the Doors to dance all night to!
During the second year of going to drama parties together Scott wanted to make-out in front of everyone. It seemed like he was trying to prove his manhood. I always felt conflicted about this behavior. It made me feel dirty, and like an object. But if that’s what Scott wanted then that is what we did. I never argued with him, or expressed my vague feelings of being “used”. My feelings didn't matter. My job was to serve the man.
As difficult as it is to understand, I trusted Scott. He loved me. Even though he never took me out on dates I knew it was because he had no money. Gifts were rare but on one of my birthday's he gave me the brand new Crosby, Stills and Nash" album! By now I was walking to his home and back by myself. I also assumed we were seeing each other exclusively even though Scott was a bit of a flirt. Our relationship went on like this through my Junior year. I was grateful for any attention he paid me because I knew many girls who would kill to be in my place. He took me to my Junior Prom, and it was a heavenly evening! He borrowed his dad’s Mustang convertible for the event! What a lucky girl I was.
My senior year things between Scott and I went pretty much the same; the walks to and from his house, the make-out sessions, the parties. However I noticed I was being treated differently by classmates. I sensed people were talking about me behind my back. My speech teacher even asked me one day what I was doing with Scott. What was he talking about? I loved him! We’d been romantically involved for two years! Why shouldn’t I be with him? I was a very confused girl, but I was about to become a drowning girl.
One spring afternoon after school I overheard a girl bragging to her friends about going out with Scott. She described their date, and him getting to second base. Somehow I knew it was true. Although painful, it was not nearly so painful as when I discovered the following week he planned to take my best friend, Kit, to our senior prom. My emotional pain went to a whole different level when I heard this from a mutual friend. How could my best friend do this to me? It was easier to be mad at her then at Scott. I’ve blocked out how I found out the next piece of information, but it brought me to my knees. Two years before Scott had developed a crush on my best friend Kit which was not reciprocated. In order to be closer to her he began a relationship with me. His plan was to hang out with me until he showed up on Kit’s radar.
I broke into a thousand pieces emotionally. But I hadn’t heard the worst yet. The year after I graduated I learned Scott had been telling everyone and anyone who would listen about his made-up sexual exploits with me; taking my virginity, sharing me with a friend, and many other unimaginable things. People were indeed talking about me behind my back during my senior year. And now I understood the meaning behind my speech teacher’s question, “Why are you with Scott?” Scott used me to gain a reputation as being a sexually adventurous guy who had been around the block many times. He used me to convince his friends he was a stud, and I had unknowingly let him. With all the making-out we did in public it’s no wonder observers believed we must be doing a lot more in private. I played along with Scott’s game without realizing it. He manipulated me, and used my adoration for his benefit.
I’d been looking to a person to meet my needs, and it proved to be a big mistake. I compromised my standards, and my self-respect for a counterfeit intimate experience because I was needy. My parents constantly crossed personal boundaries, and taught me not to respect my boundaries so when a boyfriend used me it seemed normal. My feet were knocked out from under me, and I found myself on my knees. Literally.
During high school I “played” church on Sundays, but during the week I did exactly what I wanted. I had no real relationship with God, and gave Him no say in my life. My decisions were based on my emotional needs and desires, not on what was best for me according to God’s plan. I was sitting on the fence with God; half on and half off. This led to doubts about my faith. Did God really exist? At nineteen years old I fell on my knees by my bed and prayed, “God, I don’t know if you are real anymore. If there is no such thing as God I’m not going to “play” anymore. So show me if you are real.” I went to bed that night feeling lost, and sad, and a bit defiant.
At this time I was attending college at Mt. Hood Community in Troutdale, Oregon while living at home. Each morning I climbed onto a public bus to get to campus. This morning started out like all the others, but with one big difference. The passengers in the seats in front, and behind me were talking about Jesus. I noticed this, but didn’t think much more about it. In my first class a couple of students seated next to me were discussing Jesus! In the cafeteria lunch line folks in front of me, and behind me were conversing about Jesus! The afternoon consisted of more of the same; over-hearing random conversations about Jesus everywhere I went! It was the most bizarre thing that had ever happened to me. After a whole week of this God had my attention. It was clear God was telling me that not only did He exist, but He heard my prayer, and was answering it in a very obvious way. God wanted me to know that His Son Jesus was real too, and the only way to relationship with God was through His Son! The end of that day I fell on my knees again, but this time in absolute belief in God and His Son, Jesus.
God spoke to me, “ Are you going to give your life to me, or are you going to keep going your own way?” Now I had to make the biggest decision of my life.
I knew it was time to get off the fence with God. My Creator cared about me, and knew what was best for me. John 3:16 was true: “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him will have everlasting life.” I prayed, “God, I’m yours. And I believe Jesus is Your Son, and that He took the punishment for all the wrong choices I’ve made. Take my life.”
That’s when God began the work of healing my emotional wounds. The empty places in my heart, and spirit were filled by God. His love was palpable. I was being transformed from the inside out by the Creator of the universe. The Bible became alive to me for the first time. I grew into relationship with a loving God through prayer, and Bible study, and Christian fellowship. I became a different person, a stronger person. I began treating myself with grace and forgiveness, because that’s how Jesus treated me! God valued me, and that made me value myself.
But satan wasn’t giving me up without a fight. One warm spring night as I crawled into bed the temperature in the room instantly dropped to freezing. A “presence” entered the room; an evil presence. Overcome with terror I witnessed a palpable darkness fill the room; it was satan himself. He didn’t bother disguising himself as an “angel of light” as he is sometimes referred to in the Bible. He came wrapped in a darkness fringed with the chill of fear. I pulled the covers up to my mouth, and froze in panic. What did he want? I no sooner asked this question then satan whispered coldly in my ear, “How do you know God is real?” That’s all he said. His sole desire was to bring doubt, and insecurity into my new found faith; to come between me and God.
I was in no hurry to answer. Too much was at stake in this moment. Satan was putting
I was in no hurry to answer. Too much was at stake in this moment. Satan was putting
my faith to the test. Slowly, carefully I chose my words, “Satan, I can’t see you but I can feel...your...presence, and hear...your...voice. So I know you are real. In the same way, I can’t see God, but I can feel...His...presence, and hear...His...voice. So I also know God is real. If you are this real so is God! In the name of Jesus, and the blood He shed on the cross, get out of this room!” The moment I said the name of Jesus the darkness disappeared, and the cold vanished.
I sprang out of bed, switched the light on, and read my Bible for the next hour. That was the last time satan would directly contact me. He was defeated because I acknowledged my dependence on Jesus, who defeated satan when he rose from the grave! Without Jesus I could not have been victorious against satan’s attack.
This marked a new stage of spiritual growth in my life; a time of confidence and peace in Christ! A few months later God blessed me with a completely different kind of spiritual experience to counter the one satan gave me. (Read the rest of the story in my blog entitled "Demons and Angels" in July, '13)
No comments:
Post a Comment